Danger Line (Supernatural) 01
by Gaviria
Summary: First story on FanFiction. Tell me what you all think of it if you get to readin' Enjoy.


My pencil wrote words on the paper rapidly like a mini lead Gatling gun. The teacher standing at the front of the entire class did not slow down to let us catch up to his speedy voice and I don't even think he stopped to breathe. He was blazing through a handful of slides, reviewing everything in science that he had to learn, which I found utterly bizarre. I could only guess how much he had in store for us this week, but knowing this teacher as much as I did - I knew what he was putting us through was for our own educational well-being. Right about now, we were going over tectonic plates in 6th grade Earth Science.

Taking a swift look at the time, the teacher turned back to the class and made a light huff of relief, "Alright, guys. Wrap it up, put your chairs up on the desks, and get the heck up."

The class obeyed, quickly putting up their chairs to get out of the room in a rush. They all wanted to go home, and I was kind of on board with them. I was not having the most spectacular day today, which was a solid fact. Something had happened this morning, something that I could not particularly fond of even if I really tried to be. It was possibly the worst thing to have happened so far in my life, even though I had quite a few decades left to live.

Well, if I could live with myself for that long.

I stopped writing, leaving the seat I was currently sitting in down on the floor and ran a hand through my dark hair. I was stressed - quite the obvious fact, I know. What had happened this morning was something that could leave my mind scarred forever. That was the most blunt way I can put it.

The room had emptied out to where it was just me and the man who kept lecturing for the majority of the period, Mr. Erickson – a teacher I considered to be like my uncle at the very least. He was like a father figure, or a counselor.

His full name was Daemon Erickson, quite the name to remember over the years.

His hair was short, stopping at the nape of his neck – ruffled neatly like someone had been running their hand through it over and over. It was colored heavily with silver, with little tints of his natural brown color. His face was narrow, his jaw squared off to give him a strong look. His chin, jaw, and lips were outlined in a tinted grey goatee – a dark brown shadow trickled on his cheeks. His eyes were wide, a misty blue color for irises. It strictly reminded of storm clouds raiding a dark blue sky. It was endearing when he smiled. His eyes would scrunch up, and his dimples would emerge from their hiding – giving something everyone would adore. It made him look very young, even though he wasn't that much older to begin with.

I'm not surprised he is known for his smile. Whenever I ask someone about Mr. Erickson, they have to mention something about his smile - or his eyes were the next topic.

He did not have the absolute best body build, being just a tad bit on the chubby side, but he was more in-shape then majority of the teachers – that was a fact. He stood 6'2, a gentle giant is what he was labeled by some of the people who knew him as well as I do.

He sported a blue button up shirt, not tucked and wrinkled from it's past days in his drawer. A pair of faded-out, blue jeans hugged his waist comfortably and ratty jogging shoes protected his feet from the dirt patched floor.

"So, Ashurin," his eyes glazed over with worry, "I got your email. What's going on?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. To tell Erickson about this current situation I was in seemed so much easier as I thought it over when I was at home. Being here in person, in front of the man I knew so well, made my nerves shake. I was already in a bad position in my head as it stood, and I was making it worse speaking up about what was happening.

I was beginning to get twitchy, my hands shaking and my leg jumping. I couldn't sit still, and Erickson took note of it quickly - because he began to scrawl numbers across a paper with his pen.

"Hey, I know how you're feelin'," he smiled, "if you need to tell me over text or email, let me know. I'll be here."

He slid me a paper, and on it was his phone number.

As well as I knew Erickson, this was surprising me. He never gave his number out to students. I was starting to think that I earned a place in that man's heart.

I nodded slightly, quietly promising him I would message. I needed a word of advice, some sanity for that matter. What had happened earlier was knowing and racking my mental state, something I already knew should never happen.

I may have not been seen as it, but I could easily break. I was diagnosed with A.D.H.D at a fairly young age, not being able to get the grades in school I should have been getting from the start. Sure, dealing with constant distractions and people breathing down my neck should have me grab the reigns to that issue. That never happened, and I doubt it will.

I was hostile when I was on the edge of becoming insane. I was far from being those crazies that laugh for no reason, talk to inanimate objects, and mutter nonsense under their breath like you see in movies when they're cooped up. I was one of those that cut myself off on a bad day, mask my growing insanity with a smile, and pretend like everything was fine.

I was suggested a therapist, but I turned it down. I thought I could get over the pain I had always felt inside my life, but it never seemed to fade away. I thought about it after, but the decision never came to mind.

What had broken my mind into pieces was the constant relapse with the mistakes I have made. That had caused me to lose my friends in the same manner every time, and with the same question rotating in my head:

What did I do wrong?

I have been teased for many reasons over and over, to the point where I question myself today, and wonder if I should even show up to school because I know what I'm going to be receiving. I was the center of the loud family arguments. I was friending people who I believed could bring out the best person in me, and hide the pain I had felt, but in the end – they left me in the dust and brought out the worst.

This life was like my own personal soap opera, starring myself as the scared high schooler who's on the brink of breaking the wall between real and fake.

I sighed quietly and felt Erickson pull me into a light, comforting hug, "Hey, keep your chin up. Don't let those buggers keep you down," another smile was directed towards me, "I'll see you later tonight, right?"

I nodded, "Yes," I approved quietly.

Erickson had invited me to a family dinner to honor what I had done for the Erickson family over the years, and of course I had to accept. I tried to object because I was rather selfless, but he insisted that he make this work out, and I had come along. He did stuff like this for me, which is why I thought of him like a father.

After trading quiet goodbyes, I turned on my heels to exit the room. The whirlwind of events was swirling through my mind like a broken record, and it refused to go away. I shook my head, trying to remove the thoughts from my mind and I felt my foot catch on something. The metal legs of the chair clanked, and as soon as my mind caught up with itself - I was falling.

Right as I was about three feet off of the floor, a pair of arms - solid, muscular under the suit jacket they covered - broke the floor's oncoming embrace. Whoever this guy was, he certainly had good timing with the catch. I diverted my attention up to the man who had caught me.

He stood about 6'1, well built, and looked as if he was prepared for anything about to be thrown at him. His face was strong looking, more like a model, but his vibe told me he was far from interested when it came to posing in front of a camera. His eyes were a captivating green, and they stared down right at me. His hair was short, almost like Leif's, except a fairly dark brown. Almost black.

The suit he was wearing was not too bad either, being solid black for the jacket and the slacks. A neatly patted, white button up hid the apparently toned body of his, a black tie draping down to accent his authority get-up.

After taking a few moments to analyze this stranger, my mind recollected and I realized I was still in his arms. My gut tightened in a light panic and my heart began to thud loudly. I felt the warm sensation spread on my cheeks and I sprung out of his arms, looking down to hid the blush on my face, "Oh... I'm so sorry."

The stranger looked down at me and laughed a little bit, his smile warm and welcoming. Something I kind of needed right about now, "It's fine. You seem a little dazed. By any chance, are you Ashurin?"

I blinked in confusion, "Yeah, why?"

"I have a couple of questions I need to ask you," he said politely and scanned his eyes over me.

"Let me see some identification,"Erickson was stepping in, something he really didn't need to do.

The man sighed, digging out a sign of authority.

I did not know how the event that occurred earlier this morning had reached the ears of the F.B.I so fast, or some other agency of the sort. I could feel that fear of trouble rise within me, making me shift from foot to foot.

The man pulled out the well-polished badge and handed it over to Erickson to look over it. It was all properly labeled, all so alike to the real badge. In fact, it had to be a real badge, because Erickson handed it back over after a little bit and sighed.

"Seems legit," Erickson handed the badge back to the agent and plopped down in his leather seat, rolling around the room to get the work he had everyone leave in the center of the tables.

The agent took back his badge and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket, directing me outside the doors of S2. Feeling myself swallow, I followed slowly and cracked the door behind me, "What do you need to know?"

The man's smile faltered a bit, "I need to know everything about the incident with your uncle this morning. What had happened exactly?"

I swallowed, "He…" my voice had trailed off thoughtfully. It took me a second to think it over, to see how this would sound out in my own head. It all seemed so clear, given I was the one who had witnessed it. This guy would not believe a single word that would exit my mouth.

It really could not be logical, the way these things all went together like the pieces to a puzzle. It all made sense in my head, but if I were to tell someone about all of this, they would think differently. It all seemed too much like hallucinations, now that I began to think about it more. So there was no way this all had to be real.

No way.

"Come on, Ashurin," he pressed, "I need to know these things so I can help you."

I shook my head slowly, "No… You can't help me, agent… I'm only going insane, it's not real. What I had seen is not real…"

I found my voice starting to break. My body began to shake violently, because of the memory of that I had come to witness. What I had seen, it had to be a part of the dark imagination. It all could not be logical, it never should be, "No one will believe me… They all know I'm just a meat suit full of crazy…"

The man sighed, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. He squeezed, a promising feeling, "Ashurin, you aren't crazy," he tried to assure me.

I twitched, "Are you sure you think that I'm not insane, Agent? Are you sure you want to know what I saw? First impressions are hard to erase, Agent. What I saw defies what you think of me."


End file.
